To Start a Life
by CorrinaTFF
Summary: Black Balloon Contest Entry: All everyone in town saw was the Police Chief’s little girl, married to the prized cop that everyone loved. How little they knew.


**The Black Balloon Contest**

**Title: To Start a Life**

**Your pen name: CorrinaTFF**

**Characters: Bella, Charlie, Jacob, James, Jasper, Edward**

**Disclaimer: ****All publicly recognizable characters, settings, and plot are the property of Stephenie Meyer. As much as I'd love to be, I am not in any way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Warning: This story may be disturbing to some people as it does contain instances of domestic violence, loss and other issues that may be VERY sensitive in nature. Please proceed with caution.**

**Thank you to Mrs_Robward and Mpg for looking at this, giving your awesome thoughts and opinions, and kicking my ass over it all. I love you both.**

* * *

"_**No passion so effectually robs the mind of all its powers of acting and reasoning as fear.**__**" – Edmund Burke**_

_I was running as fast as I could to escape him. I could hear him behind me, filled with rage, calling out my name. "Isabella Marie," his voice reverberated through the dense trees in a singsong tone. "You can't hide from me! I will find you and I will put an end to the lies you've told!" I ducked behind a tree, my back going rigid as I heard a rustling of leaves on the forest floor to my left. I scanned the space in the distance, looking for even the slightest shift in the small amount of moonlight penetrating the ceiling of ominous branches and leaves above. I snapped my head to the right hearing a snuffling noise. If I had a choice between being killed by an animal or beaten by him, I would pick the animal._

"_There you are," his voice was menacingly cold as my head was shoved hard into the trunk in front of me. "Did you really think you could get away from me? You are my wife. My property. You leave when I say you leave and in the way I decide, Isabella." He pulled me up by my hair then spun me around, shoving me harshly backward into the bark. I winced as my back made contact, feeling bits of it piercing my skin through my shirt. "Look at me!" I opened my eyes and saw the sadistic stare of my husband. In my periphery I saw something silver flash and then something cold being pressed against my throat as his face inched toward mine._

I sat bolt upright in bed, screaming as sweat dripped down my neck and my eyes darted around the dimly lit room. My throat ached from strain and my hand clutched at it, checking for the wound which was now marked by a scar—a constant reminder of my brush with death. Glancing frantically around the hazy space, I soon recognized it as my old room at Dad's house and began taking deep breaths to calm my rapidly beating heart. If it weren't for the sturdy bone cage of my chest, I was certain it would have beaten its way free from my body to escape the excessive blood flow and adrenaline. It would have been so easy to just pop a pill or two and find the sedation I desperately needed, but I didn't want to rely on a chemical to do something my body should have been able to do on its own. I knew I needed to stave off the coming panic attack by using the relaxation techniques Dr. Alice Brandon had taught me. She was a bit quirky, but she had educated me on the natural ways to rid myself of the anxiety.

My calming exercises faltered when Dad suddenly burst through my bedroom door, wide-eyed with his gun drawn and pointing in the direction of his gaze as he scanned the room for an intruder. He raked his eyes from corner to corner, his gun moving parallel with his sight and spoke very quickly, in a commanding boom I knew as the Police Chief's voice, "Bella, talk to me. Why did you scream? What did you see?" He approached the window on the far wall, checking it for what must have been the tenth time tonight.

It was unnecessary, but he didn't know of the nightly security routine I'd performed on my own. I had already checked the two windows in my room at least half a dozen times to be sure they were locked. I'd made sure the closet door stood open so there was no question of anyone hiding within. Using my dad's old baseball bat, I'd swung it under the bed from a position on the floor at the baseboard, avoiding the sides so that I couldn't be grabbed and pulled under by _his_ hands. I'd made sure my pepper spray can was tucked neatly behind my alarm clock on my side table and a stun gun rested in the drawer of the opposite table, ready for use.

As I watched him move through the room, worry etched on his face, I felt devastatingly ashamed for causing him to be so anxious. He hadn't slept much since I'd been released from the hospital and even less this week with the weight of the trial pressing down on us. I'd been here a month, but the nightmares had grown in intensity as the trial date approached. I was due to testify in court tomorrow, which meant I was going to have to face James. "I'm sorry, Daddy. It… it was just a nightmare." I hadn't realized I was crying until I heard the sob in my voice as I spoke. I gripped my grandmother's quilt and pulled it tight to my chest, praying for the familiarity of it to comfort me.

He sat down beside me and put his Glock on safety before setting it down on my nightstand. He held his arms open to me, and I collapsed into them, clutching at his pajama top as my words spluttered out in hiccupped cries. "I'm so sorry, Daddy. This is entirely my fault. If I had come to you when everything had started, things wouldn't be this way. You would still be blissfully happy with Victoria right now. James would have gotten the help he needed, and I would be off at school and you wouldn't be worrying about me. Please forgive me, Daddy. I am so, so sorry, Daddy, please. You have no idea how sorry I am!" I was clinging to him desperately, needing him to understand that I couldn't even begin to forgive myself for what I had done to him.

I couldn't tell if he had heard my pleas clearly until I felt his arms tighten around me as his body trembled with his own tears. That is what I had done to my father. I had literally reduced a pillar of strength in this community—in my life—to this… morbidly haggard man. He was shattered because if I had been the daughter he raised me to be, we wouldn't have been here right now.. "Shh. Bella, honey, stop this." He pulled back and grasped my face between his hands. "You know this isn't your fault, don't you? James did this to you. _You_ are the victim here. _I_ should be the one apologizing to _you_. You're my baby girl, my angel, and I failed as a father to protect you. I am the one at fault right now, not you. I should have seen it… known what he was…" His voice had grown weak toward the end of his declaration and my tears flowed heavier at hearing him take the blame upon himself. It wasn't his fault and I needed him to know that, but I couldn't bring myself out of my sobbing to speak. Instead, I shook my head violently with my eyes shut tight, assaulting his shirt with every tug. We had been at this same impasse for months, both feeling the overwhelming guilt for what the other was going through; what _I_ had put us through.

"Charlie! Is everything alright up there?" Jacob called out from downstairs. He'd been staying here the past week as extra protective detail. He was fresh out of the academy, but Dad felt that Jacob was the only one he could trust with me.

My father cleared his throat. "Yes, Jake! I'll be down in a few minutes!" his voice cracked as he shouted back. Dad had known Jacob since he was a toddler, and he'd been my best friend all through high school. Jake was the overbearing protective brother I never knew I'd always wanted, until recently. If he'd ever felt the need to do so, he could seriously injure anyone that tried to hurt his friends or family. I shivered at the thought, because that was exactly what James had done while hiding behind his badge.

He easily portrayed the perfect gentleman in front of others, faultlessly playing the part of the doting husband that was so in love with his young wife. The son-in-law to the Chief of Police in Forks and the candidate most likely to take his place, should the Chief retire. He was counted as the best husband a woman could hope for, because he was a protector not only for her, but for the entire town. We were the iconic representation of the perfect young married couple, living on the outskirts of a small community of approximately 3300 bodies. Not one of them suspected a thing.

Behind closed doors, he was a monster—physically and emotionally abusive and terrifyingly threatening. I longed for his double shifts and dreaded his aggressiveness when he was at home. His home was my cell. Our house confined me to a life of duty to my husband—my warden.

Our house was a small one, set at the edge of the wood, with our nearest neighbor residing about a half mile down the road. It was the ideal setting for a horror film about a killer with many chilling secrets hidden just beyond the tree line. If the victim were to scream out, no one would be capable of hearing them. Only this wasn't a movie. This was my life, and I was his lone captive for two very long, torturous years in a prison he had strategically created with his own bloodied hands.

Within weeks after we wed, James had effectively cut me off from nearly everyone in my life. I was ashamed and completely devastated for losing myself in this man. I'd locked myself away not wanting anyone to see what I had become; what my life with my husband was like. The only times James allowed me any company, were the dinners we'd have with my father or his sister. He obviously couldn't cut the Chief off from his own daughter without raising suspicions of a troubled marriage. If it were just that, I would not have been so frightened of every shadowed movement in the light of day. The nights were worse as I was unable to escape the darkness that threatened to close in and take all the radiance from my life, leaving me cold, completely empty and alone.

Every day, I would long for Dad's appearances, desperately praying for him to just see what was happening in my nightmare of a home. I couldn't hold him accountable for not seeing what was going on in his little girl's life. James had moved into town, joined the force and quickly developed a strong relationship with my father. They'd shared a love for sports, guns and nature. Dad had become a mentor to James and affectionately thought of him as a son. Events would not have played out the way they had, if my father had not loved my husband as his own.

After I graduated from high school, James—then five years older than me—asked my father's permission to date me. Dad caring for and trusting James the way he did, was supportive of our relationship. He couldn't think of a better man to love and provide for his daughter even if most people in town were stunned by the sudden development of our relationship. Many of them had thought that Jacob was the obvious choice for me since we had quite literally grown up together. Dad and Jake's father, Billy were best friends, and we had been thrown together often so it was only natural that Jake and I had dated off and on in high school. Dad loved him and thought of him as a son as well, but Jake had always been a wild card. Not that we had ever entertained the idea of marriage, but he was undecided in what he wanted to do with his life, and that made Dad uneasy. He wanted his baby girl safe and cared for. Protected. Looking back, one can realize that no one is ever truly safe. Not even the Chief's daughter.

With my history of being the town klutz, the bruises and fractures were easy enough to pass off with an inert explanation. None of the doctors had identified a single injury as anything other than what James had told them. No one would suspect an upstanding citizen of the community—who just happened to be a well respected cop—to be a sadistic bastard that enjoyed beating his wife. His position on the Force, and relation by marriage to the Police Chief, gave him unwavering respect and power. Over the years he had been privy to information on the forensics of how people were beaten. He knew exactly where to hit and what to strike with, to inflict the maximum amount of pain, marking me as his with each blow he dealt, while still making it appear as though it were an accident. For example, a hit to the hip with a four-by-four could pass as me running into the kitchen counter. The man knew my history and knew exactly what he was doing.

It took me going to the hospital and nearly dying for me to admit to the things that had happened to me throughout my marriage. Once I had finally confided in Dad about James' reign of terror, there was no stopping my father from pressing charges and doing everything he could to be certain they held. He'd ensured plenty of photos were taken of my entire body as I lay in my hospital bed lifelessly with numerous machines keeping me alive in a medical coma.

I owed Jacob so much for helping Dad through my stay in the hospital. Jake had kept Dad company during his vigil at my bedside. He'd even stayed with me while Dad took personal breaks. I was indebted to Jake for showing up at my house when he had. If it hadn't been for Jacob, I would not be living today.

At Dad's insistence, Jacob had shown up at the house one day a few months ago because he wanted to share some news with me. He had just graduated from the academy in Seattle and was moving back to Forks to join my dad and James on the force. He wanted to surprise me, so there was no phone call announcing his impending visit. It wouldn't have mattered really, because we weren't in the house.

James had come home pissed off because his sister Victoria had just informed him that Dad wanted to speak to him about something, but she wouldn't divulge what. James' initial thought was that I had somehow informed my father of what had been going on in our marriage. He had burst through our front door calling out for me and demanding to know what I had told my father. I denied ever telling him anything because I hadn't. James had threatened to kill my father so many times before, that there was no way I would ever risk telling anyone of the beatings I took. James had already killed once and that left me with little doubt that he would do it again. My father was all I had left in this world, and if all I could get were a few dinner visits here and there, I would take them.

We were in the kitchen when James backhanded me firmly across the face, and I'd fallen to the floor hitting my head hard enough to make me dizzy. I lay there waiting for the kick I thought would come next. He stalked off down the hallway pausing at the closet that held my restraints and his many weapons. I scrambled for the backdoor just off the kitchen. I ran as hard and fast as I could manage, fearing that he would kill me this time. He already thought I told my father something and hadn't believed me when I told him I hadn't. I had to run; to escape. I thought that if I could just get away from him, I could eventually circle back, go to a neighbor's house and call my father.

Of course, my clumsiness mixed with my head spinning from the dizziness of the fall, caused me to stumble through the trees. I clung to them for support as I ran to stay upright, the bark sometimes scraping my palms, but I didn't care. I had been dealt much worse injuries at the hands of someone who claimed to love me. I knew the splinters of wood slicing into my hands cared more for me than my husband ever had.

I ducked behind a tree, breathing heavily while feeling the adrenaline pump heavily through my limbs. My chest rose and fell quickly with every painful gasp of air that entered my lungs and the harsh, pounding beat of my heart echoed like a drum in my ears. I tried to quiet my panting by taking slow, deep breaths as my heart thumped an allegro in my chest. I didn't know where James was, but I was certain he would have followed closely behind me.

"Isabella!" I turned, pushing my back to the tree I was hidden behind. Looking into the distance, I tried to find another thick tree to duck behind. If I could find one with enough brush around, I would be able to veil myself within its shadows. I took off running again, barely making it a few feet before I stumbled to the forest floor, wincing as something pierced my palm. I clenched my teeth together to keep from crying out, but managed to issue only a mild whimper, praying that it didn't draw his attention.

"Isabella Marie! I will find you little girl! You will be very sorry when I do!"

I scrambled to my feet again and speedily took cover behind the nearest tree. I knelt on the cold ground, resting my forehead on the trunk of the tree. I heard him call out for me in a singsong voice. "Isabella Marie! You can't hide from me! I will find you and put an end to those ridiculous lies you've told!"On my left, I heard a rustling of leaves on the forest floor. I ran my eyes over the darkness, scanning for any movement in the distance. I quickly twisted my head to the right when I heard a snuffling noise. If it was an animal, I would welcome whatever death it would bring, because surely it would have been less torturous than it would at the violent hands of my husband.

"There you are! Did you really think you could get away from me?" He twisted my hair in his hands and shoved face first hard into the trunk of the tree. "Did you really think you could get away from me?" He pulled me up by my tresses, and I could feel the roots straining to keep their place. "You are my wife! My property. You only leave, when I say you can leave and only in the way I decide, Isabella." He spun me around and shoved me callously backward into the bark of the tree. I cried out in pain when my back made contact. I felt a pop or a crack in my back from the force he exerted, and I closed my eyes tight, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. "Look at me!" I opened my eyes, willing them not to pool as they pricked with unwanted tears. His sadistic stare chilled me more than the night air ever had. I caught a glint of something silver in my periphery before I felt cold steel pressed to my throat. He moved his face to within an inch of mine. "You know you can scream all you want out here. No one will hear you, little girl. Why don't you go on ahead and try it, Isabella? Try screaming and see what you get in return."

My nostrils flared as I clenched my jaw tightly and stared stoically back into his eyes. I knew what was coming—he'd told me so many times before what he would do to me—this very well could be my last stand. Remaining silence would be my final act of defiance before he killed me. He sneered at me, slowly running the blade over my throat cutting just deep enough to sting from the bite of the air. I felt a light warmth trickle down the right side of my neck. I saw him smirk and I drew in a deep breath, feeling the blade pierce the skin of my left shoulder. There was nothing I could do but scream; the sound of it resonated through the dense wood.

I screamed as my nervous system sent out a signal to my entire body, allowing it to feel the searing pain from the blade being embedded into my shoulder. I screamed for my father who would feel the loss of a beloved daughter deep within his soul. I screamed for the next woman that would feel the psychotic wrath of James as her husband. I screamed for an unknowing town steeped in a danger skillfully disguised as an officer of the law that they were all ignorant to. I screamed for myself and everything I had allowed James to take from me. I screamed for my loss at James' hands. I screamed begging death to finally take me so that I could finally be free.

James leaned over me, close to my ear, gripping my chin roughly as he spoke in a gravelly voice. "That's my girl. You've pleased me, Isabella. _That_ is exactly what I wanted to fucking hear." He left the knife buried deep in my left shoulder and pulled me away from the tree by my right arm. I cried out in pain from the forceful movement. "You _will_ scream for me again. You'll scream my name while bound to our bed before the night is through, Isabella. You'll be spread out in front of me, for _my_ pleasure, and I _will_ fuck you well into the morning." My eyes widened in terrorized disbelief. I was badly wounded by his attack, and he planned to force me to have sex with him. Right then, I wished with my entire being that he would kill me before we reached the house. The humiliation of being mercilessly fucked before ending my life would be too much. I wouldn't be able to control my frenetic weeping. I would sob loud and hiccup the entire time, which would only infuriate him. He wanted me to suffer and could possibly injure me further by hitting me with something solid—probably his police-issued Glock.

The closer we got to the house, the more I wanted to run away and pray that he'd kill me when he caught me. I knew deep in my bones, what he wanted more than anything was to disgrace me and have me beg for mercy before he would consider freeing me from my hell on earth. I couldn't give him that satisfaction, and I knew he would make me pay for my disobedience with my life.

We stepped out of the tree line, and I could see the back door standing open with the light shining onto the porch. My eyes fell on a form slouched on the steps, and I panicked, fearing for the person there. I tried walking backwards, but James stopped me and shoved me forward, apparently not seeing what I saw. I groaned in pain as the sharp metal of the blade reminded me of its position.

"Move it, Isabella. Nothing is going to save you from what you have coming to you." James growled cruelly, and I knew he didn't see whoever had been sitting there.

The form sat up rigid, and I swallowed hard seeing the whites of the harsh glare from Jacob's eyes. As Jake stood, stalking toward us, I gripped the handle of the blade tightly and pulled it from my shoulder, screaming as the pain shot through my shoulder and over my neck. I turned to face James and was instantly dizzy from the combination of my turn, my injuries and the smell of the salty rust. I collapsed to the ground in a heap and faded into blackness as I heard cracking of bone and heated indiscernible words.

* * *

I woke up three weeks later to my heavily bearded, unkempt father, sleeping in the uncomfortable teal-colored hospital recliner at my bedside. He had dark circles under his eyes, and he looked as though he had lost a considerable amount of weight. I reached up to scratch an annoying itch, but stilled when a hand reached out to immobilize me. I flinched and tried to recoil in reaction, but began crying as the pain ripped through my body. I began breathing rapidly and heard my heart banging out a beat in my ears.

"Hey, it's okay. I just didn't want you to rip your bandages off." I looked up into the most intense blue eyes I had ever seen in my life. A memory flickered in the back of my mind, but I couldn't piece it together through the haze.

He smiled at me and pulled his hand back from my forearm. "Are you going to leave your shoulder alone or am I going to have to wake your father and have him treat you like his little girl?" My eyes widened in terror as his words reminded me of James. My eyes darted around the room, frantically searching for the man I dreaded seeing here with me. Horror struck deep within my bones as I wondered why this man was familiar to me. I couldn't recall where I had seen him, but feared he had been a friend to James. I heard a beeping sound increase in frequency, and felt myself growing nauseous.

I felt someone stroking the hair from my forehead as another grasped my right hand, then my father's soothing voice spoke to me. "Bella, Bella, Bella, it's okay sweetheart. I'm here. Daddy's here." I looked to my right seeing my father's gaunt face and began sobbing uncontrollably, clinging to his arm with the little strength I had. The exhaustive pain wracked my body as it convulsed uncontrollably while I wept in the arms of the only man I could allow to touch me. "Bella, you're safe, honey. I promise you, he will never hurt you again. We got him, honey. He's locked up in a cell right now, and I promise you he won't be getting out." I don't know how long he stood there, bent over me like he was. I felt myself slowly slipping into unconsciousness as the weight of my lids became too much for me to fight.

"I need to make a phone call, Jasper. Do you mind staying with her while I step into the hall?" I wanted to protest, but couldn't manage to open my eyes or my mouth.

"Not at all, Chief. I need to chart her vitals and do another blood draw to check for infection. The other patients will probably be happy if I am delayed. They may rejoice thinking they get a pass this round. No one likes me at his time of day… well… with the exception of Ms. Ociskem." I heard a light chuckle.

"You be careful of Maria, Jasper. She's a cougar on the prowl. She may very well devour you."

"Don't I know it?" Jasper's calming, gentle voice was the last thing I heard before completely slipping into the fog.

* * *

If you've never experienced true fear, you wouldn't know how all-consuming it can be. It paralyzes you in ways you can't even imagine. The person you once were becomes a distant memory, and any amount of strength or courage you may have possessed no longer exists. Your hope hangs from a precipice on a thread that is fraying from the strain of the weight of your fear. Your mind is rubbed raw by the jagged edges of your trepidation—any good you once saw in people, drowned long ago in your pool of hopelessness. The deeper the pool became, the harder it was to tread, and you grew weaker—the muscles of your memories cramping to the point of pain you didn't believe you would ever return from.

No matter how many sleep aids, anti-anxiety meds or anti depressants I was prescribed, nothing could stop the innate fear from wrapping itself around me like a blanket. I'd lived with it for so long that I couldn't fathom it would ever dissipate. It clung to me and claimed me as its lifeline, unwilling to release me.

The nightmares had continued to invade my sleep; last night's was the worst as I had relived everything from my darkest hours. I had resided in purgatory for so long; it was a miracle that I wasn't still locked in the very depths of Hell with the satanic demon that was my husband. The divorce couldn't happen soon enough, and I needed James' trial to be over. I could not drop James' surname until the divorce was final. It was the only part of him I could tangibly untangle myself from.

The fear of facing him in court this morning was nearly crippling, and I was seriously considering taking an alprazolam. I needed to ease some of the anxiety I was feeling to be able to testify. The prosecutor had explained that I was going to have to recount every painstaking detail of our marriage so that people would understand the circumstances I had been through. It was the only way to ensure that James would get the maximum allowable sentence of twenty-five years for attempted murder.

The prosecutor had been sure to supplement two additional counts of brandishing a firearm with intent to use on an unarmed person or persons. Although he hadn't discharged the gun on me, he had made an attempt on Jacob's life while I lay dying on the ground from the loss of blood. Those convictions could bring an extra seven to ten years to his sentence for each count. We'd filed charges of spousal abuse, but it would be difficult to prove because I had never reported anything. The prosecutor said we could still use it in my testimony, and hope that everyone would understand my decision to remain silent.

Once I took the stand and was sworn in by the clerk, the prosecutor, Edward Masen, Esquire asked that I start from the beginning. He wanted the court to know exactly how long James' guise had been in play. My eyes fixated on James and my body grew cold with fear. My hands trembled as I began to wring my mother's handkerchief in my hands. The soft cotton was rendered useless as it no longer served as a soothing beacon of light in my wintry storm. My breathing increased while the legs of panic ran icily through my veins. I felt hot tears gathering in my eyes and my chin began to quiver.

"Bella?" Edward's voice sounded faint. I wanted to look into his eyes and know that he was here to help me through this. I had seen those captivating emeralds nearly every day for the past two weeks as we covered every surface of my testimony. His mere presence would calm me enough to make it through the discussions we'd had. "Bella, can you speak of the events of the past two years or should we postpone your testimony?"

I saw James smirk as Edward offered to have me step down. "Bella, can you continue?" He had ducked down to my eye level, blocking the sight of James and releasing me from the prison I had found myself in once again.

I closed my eyes, took a deep cleansing breath and then shakily expended the air from my lungs. I swallowed the imagined lump in my throat before opening my eyes and focusing on the brilliant green pair staring back at me in concern. I smiled warily, nodded and began to tell the court of my self-inflicted imprisonment. **--**

I recounted the day just weeks before our wedding. I had gone over the notes that our pastor had given us during our final counseling session when we had completed our marriage classes. Pastor Weber had felt we were rushing and that I needed to grow a little as an individual before we were married. He feared I was trying to marry someone very much like my father and that my judgment in marrying a cop was clouded. He also felt that James was a bit too controlling and wanted him to join the men's group for guidance. I remember dismissing the controlling comment because I had never seen anything to support his hypothesis of James' issues…until the following night.

Two weeks before our wedding, James had thrown me against a wall after I had told him I was nervous and thought we should postpone as Pastor Weber had suggested. Before I could react, he had gripped my throat hard with his left hand, forcing me to gasp for air as his fingers pressed in on my windpipe. He'd dragged me by my throat into the kitchen and pulled the butcher's cleaver from the drawer. He held it to my jugular and told me if I ever tried to leave him, he would be sure I could never walk away from him again—if he decided to let me live at all.

He'd pulled me into his bedroom, throwing me onto the bed and told me he knew he could easily kill my father, because of their relationship on the force. I started to get up, but froze when I saw the cold calculating stare of his eyes, the tilt of his head and the raised brow, daring me to move.

As he removed his shoes, he reminded me that he and Dad sometimes partnered up on patrol. He stated that it would be easy to just shoot Dad and dump his body in the woods for the wolves to feast on. I began to cry, immediately fearing for my father's life. Mom was gone and he was all I had left.

My eyes widened when James removed his shirt and began to unzip his pants. We hadn't been intimate because I had wanted to wait until our wedding night. I had thought he agreed out of love for me and it had made me love him all the more. If only I had known.

He warned that if I spoke a word about our relationship to anyone, he would kill my father without regard for his surroundings. My father's death would be my doing for not adhering to James' rules. My heartbeat began thrumming in my ears, and I felt nauseous as he pulled his pants and underwear from his body, leaving him stark naked in front of me. I panicked and began begging him to wait for our wedding night. I swore to him that I would not say a word to anyone; that I just asked this one thing from my future husband—and warden.

He relented somewhat reluctantly, but not before he showed me how I had aroused him. He'd pinned me to the bed, sliding between my legs and pressed his erection into my apex. I silently thanked God that the weather had been chilly forcing me to wear pants that day. I continued to sob, begging James not to do this and he growled in my ear. He told me that soon he would claim me, and as his wife, I would have to please him whenever he'd want me. He backed off, promising to train me to be his whore in our bedroom.

For fear that I may try to confide in someone, I decided to avoid everyone until our rehearsal the day before the wedding. I was ashamed of what my life had become, knowing I was now a disappointment to my parents. They had raised me to be a strong, independent young woman and yet there I was, crumbling into this weak little girl. I was allowing this monster to make me his obedient, submissive wife, and I couldn't bear to face anyone. Letting them see what I had become and feel the disappointment clouding their eyes, would cripple me more than anything James could ever do to me.

Nothing more had happened during that two weeks—after that initial incident—except that James had apologized profusely, showering me with small gifts. He'd brought me flowers, chocolates, a beautiful diamond tennis bracelet and had treated me to a few expensive dinners out.

At our wedding rehearsal, James wouldn't let me out of his sight long enough to strike up a conversation with anyone. He'd held my hand, stroked my hair, rubbed my back—all seemingly loving gestures. Truth be told, I was utterly terrified. I couldn't be sure if the James I fell in love with, and had grown to love in the last two years, was the man I was marrying or if I was going to be forever bound to the monster.

I was unsure if anyone else in the station would turn against my father, so I really didn't know who I could go to with the information I had. I was stuck in a he said/she said situation, and I could very well lose the battle before it began. I had known most of these people my entire life, but James had infiltrated the police station, and everyone became his prey. He knew everything about them. Where they lived, what kind of car they drove, who they were related to and because he was a cop, he was privy to the intimate details of certain deviant behaviors. I couldn't risk my father's life by trusting anyone with my misery, and James knew it.

The day of our wedding, alarms were ringing out in every corner of my mind. I knew things were balancing delicately when Rose and Angela both wanted to kidnap me at the church, telling me I was too young and that I needed to live. I tried placating them by telling them how much I loved James—the old James. I had loved James, otherwise I never would have agreed to marry him.

Once the girls had left the room, I stared myself in the mirror. "He will change. He loves you. You love him. Your father loves him. Everyone loves him. He is marrying you to start a life with you, not to end one." I repeated those same words over and over again until there was a tap at the door.

Dad entered the room with the widest smile on his face. I hadn't seen him that happy since my mother was alive. For as long as I live, I will never forget his words to me that day. "I am so proud of you, Bella. You have found the perfect man for you."

My chanted dam of resolve broke. Tears ran down my face, and I was instantly thankful that Rose had adhered to my request of little to no makeup. I couldn't allow anyone to see me a mess on the day of my wedding. I was supposed to be this blissfully happy bride, not a bawling mess of a frightened child. My father asked if I was alright while dabbing my face with his handkerchief. I backed away laughing nervously, trying to quiet the tears. I wiped the excess from my cheeks with my handkerchief, looked myself in the mirror and stated coolly how unbelievably happy I was. I straightened myself up and took my father's arm ready to walk down the aisle toward my fated future.

On the outside, all anyone ever saw was the little girl they had watched grow into a woman, marrying a man that had befriended her father and was well respected by nearly everyone in town. Inside… inside I felt the fear as it heated the bile in my stomach to a boiling point, causing it to rise in my throat. I kept swallowing it down hard, just as I would an oversized pill. I felt the burn of my now uncertain future as it splintered apart and lay smoldering in embers before my eyes. My heart ached with the realization that I would be bound to this man in the eyes of God, unable to escape and begging for a release only He could give. My limbs trembled with every step I took toward my new life in purgatory. Before my dad handed me over to James, I closed my eyes took a deep breath and repeated my earlier words in my head. _"He will change. He loves you. You love him. Your father loves him. Everyone loves him. He is marrying you to start a life with you, not to end one."_

If the girls' earlier request hadn't been distressing enough, Jacob had wanted to beat James to a bloody pulp at my reception. He had cornered me, demanding to know why I had hidden from him for the previous two weeks. My relationship being what it was with Jacob, I started to tell him some things, and then quickly began closing doors in my mind to protect my father. I hadn't really told him anything of significance, knowing the consequences of telling those details. Instead I told him that James and I had fought and that he was afraid I might pull a "Runaway Bride" on him so he'd wanted to keep me close to his side.

It wasn't a complete fabrication. James had called me every hour at various times to see where I was, what I was doing, and who I was with. If he'd thought there was a chance he wouldn't be able to reach me, he would arrange for his sister, Victoria, to busy me with wedding errands or some bullshit fool's run for something frivolous.

When it came time to leave and start our wedding night, I began to have a panic attack. I was hyperventilating and unable to steady my hands. Without much more warning, my knees buckled, my vision blurred and I fell hard to the floor. Thankfully, James had been holding me by the elbow as we were walking across the floor and I hadn't hit my head all that hard. I heard people scuffling around me and my dad's worried words before slipping into the blackness.

I awoke to the putrid stench of ammonia assaulting my senses. My eyes fluttered open, and I looked into the prettiest blue eyes I had ever seen. They seemed to sparkle as I smiled at them. I looked up and saw waves of dishwater blonde hair haloed by light. I smiled again, feeling serene in thinking God had spared my life and delivered me into the arms of an angel. "Hello, there." _Such a cute little drawl for an angel._

I was ejected from my thoughts when James' voice rang out asking if I was awake. With just those few words my world came crashing down around me again. I was pulled to my feet by my new husband. He placed his hands on my face and gently kissed my lips, tenderly asking me if I was alright. I smiled at his affectionate display and blushed because I hadn't been doted on so publicly. James chuckled, pulling me tight against his body in an embrace. I hoped then and there with all my might, that now that I was his wife, he would cease his threatening, and we could live a happy life as we had the two years before. The man who had just kissed me was the charming man I had fallen in love with.

**--**

I paused in my testimony, gripping the handkerchief in my hands. I unraveled and laid the delicate cloth on my knee. This was the signal the prosecutor and I had chosen to alert him that I needed a break. Edward Masen was a little unorthodox in his practice, but he had a way of identifying people's needs that may not be completely visible to everyone else. At times, it was as if he could read everyone's mind and deliver the words or actions they were looking for. He also had a way of being able to calm me just by being near me.

"Your Honor, may I ask for a brief recess so that Mrs…" I gasped audibly, dreading hearing myself called by that name again. "So that Bella may gather herself?"

"Very well, Mr. Masen. Return to this room at a quarter to the hour. Court is in recess," Judge Clearwater commanded while connecting his gavel with its sound block.

I watched as James was ushered out a side door, smirking at me before he disappeared. My body shivered, and the moment the door closed behind him, I bent over sobbing into my palms. Edward reached out to help me from the stand, but I couldn't keep myself from flinching away from his touch. He recoiled as my father came to me and pulled me into his arms, shushing me and telling me I was safe and everything would be alright. The three of us walked out of the courtroom to a room down the hall, designated for our use. Rose, Angela, Jake and Alice were all there when Dad pulled me in.

Dr. Alice Brandon had agreed to go with me and be present in the courtroom should I require her assistance in dealing with any anxiety attacks. I had first met her when I woke in the hospital after one of my many admissions. She may be my psychiatrist, but I now counted her as my friend. She had spent a lot of time with me over the last week, helping me work through my anguish.

My father guided me to the nearest chair, easing me down, and then kissed my forehead. He crossed the room to speak with Jake who was silently staring out the window with his arms crossed over his chest. The girls rushed over pulling chairs beside me, and we ended up in an awkward group hug. I relaxed a little, feeling the warmth of friendship as they encircled me. After a few moments, everyone sat back in their chairs, and Edward began discussing what would happen when we went back in.

Ten minutes before we were due back, Edward asked that everyone leave the room except my father. Jacob cocked his brow and looked to my dad for confirmation. Dad nodded slightly while smiling, and Jacob left with the girls.

"Bella, I must apologize for earlier. I did not mean to frighten you. I sometimes forget your fear and all that you have been through, because you are such a strong woman. You've stared death in the face and yet here you are. You have survived something that few battered women do, and you have come out of it standing tall with your head held high. Your friends and family are so very proud of you. As am I. I know you can do this—you _can_ do this—and I will be there with you every step of the way. Do you understand?"

I looked at his hands resting on the table in front of him. I wished I could take comfort from him, but truthfully any man's touch, other than my father's, sent me spiraling into a cavern of darkness. I never wanted to go back to that, not knowing if I would ever escape again. I nodded and gave him the best smile I could manage. He started to reach out to my hands and I quickly pulled them under the table hiding them from view.

He ran his hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, Bella." He looked over to my father. "Charlie, when you two are ready." Dad nodded, acknowledging that he'd heard him as Edward left us alone in the room. He and Dad had grown fond of each other. Dad had learned of Edward's penchant for baseball and they had discussed it at length.

"Bella, I am so proud of you, honey. You are doing so well. You are so strong, baby girl." I leaned into my father and cried; his words reminding me of the part of my story I had yet to tell. This would be the hardest part. Dealing with loss, no matter the circumstance, is never easy.

Grief is a haunting roller coaster ride of emotion all its own. You ride along the track of denial, hoping against everything within you, that the ride hadn't really started. Your car starts up the hill of the track toward anger and the minute you get to the top, you're barreling down the hill, wanting to run someone over with it. You see a loop ahead and start bargaining with God and anyone else that will listen to just let you have it all back. You'd do anything to have the happiness return rather than the despair of what could have been. You hit that horrible loop of depression and just want it all to end. There are times when the conductor forgets to hit the stop button so that the track switches to end the trip and you start the tumultuous ride all over again. Eventually, you come to a stop, accept that you have survived and no matter what there was nothing you could have done to change the course of the track. The thing that was hard to remember was that there were others on that same ride, going through their own turmoil.

My friends and family would forever grieve the loss of the most precious gift I hadn't wanted or even deserved, but now mourned and longed for my entire being. Not one of us had been able to feel the joy in meeting her. I'd never even had the chance to say goodbye.

**--**

Three months after we were married, James had come home an hour early. I had only just begun preparing our dinner and he was furious that it wasn't ready for him. I mistakenly tried reasoning with him, explaining that it was difficult to know when he was going to be home early if he didn't call to inform me of his change in schedule. He'd backhanded me, causing my head to whip to the side and blood to seep from the corner of my mouth. In his eyes I had talked back, and I knew better than to do that when he was already so angry. He'd shouted at me to finish making dinner and that I "had best not get blood on his meal." I gently wiped my lip, feeling a sting at the corner and knew he had split it with the blow. I couldn't be bothered with my wound and went about preparing his meal.

Later that night, James had cuffed me to the bed as he "made love to me". That's what he called it; I called it something else entirely. He then made me sleep in that position all night. I didn't sleep well with my hands bound together above my head. When I had dozed to the point of my body going slack, I was awakened by the metal digging painfully into my wrists.

When James woke the next morning, he released me from the cuffs, kissed each of my wrists and apologized, saying that he'd had a terrible day at work and shouldn't have taken it out on me. He went to work, and when he returned that night, he handed me some wildflowers and begged for my forgiveness.

I testified to more of those instances from my two years of marriage to James, recounting every bruise, fracture and subsequent apology. A majority of the fractures and a few bruises were documented on my hospital records. James' lawyer argued that they shouldn't be admissible as evidence because none of the documents stated injury by way of abuse. The documents only detailed how clumsy everyone already knew me to be.

James had cost me so much of myself. He'd cost me my pride, dignity, self-worth, courage and strength. I would forever grieve the loss of the daughter my parents had raised. I would grieve infinitely more every single day for the loss of something much more precious to me. I was grieving the loss of _my_ baby girl. Tears fell to my lap as I cried for her while divulging more information about her killer than I ever thought I would be capable of doing.

It was the day of our one year anniversary. I hadn't been feeling well for days, but I was so violently ill that morning that James called Victoria and had her take me to the hospital. At that point in our marriage, I'd rarely been anywhere without someone being with me. They had asked my symptoms, and the nurse at the desk gave me a knowing smile. I didn't have a clue. How could I? They ran the tests and sure enough the nurse at the desk was right.

Victoria could barely contain her excitement, but decided to leave the news to me to tell James. We stopped down at the pharmacy to fill my prescription for prenatal vitamins and while we waited, Victoria wanted to look in the gift shop. She saw a little pale green bib that read '_Daddy's little goober'_ and bought it. She gave it to me in a gift bag to give to James, figuring it would be a fun way to tell him.

When James got home that evening, I had his favorite meal sitting on the table with the gift bag sitting there at the top of his place setting. I had lit some candles and dimmed the lights to set a romantic mood. I had hoped if he'd had a bad day the ambience would calm him. Luckily, he walked through the door in a good mood. He was very pleased that dinner was ready, and his favorite meal was prepared. He eyed the bag and smiled, thanking me for the gift. I was quick to explain that I had not spent the money, but that Victoria had gotten it for the both of us. I held my breath as he reached for the bag. He pulled the little bib out and the lines of his forehead got deeper as he started at it in confusion.

As if electricity had jolted him in his seat, he was up out of his chair, wrapping his arms around me and spinning us. I begged him to stop because he was making me even more nauseous. He put me down on my feet, kneeled in front of me, grasped my hips and kissed my belly. For the first time since we were married, I saw the man I had fallen in love with appear before me. He'd stated how happy he was and that he couldn't wait for our little boy to get here. I delicately reminded him it could be a girl, but he waved me off.

From that moment, James was as attentive and gentle as ever. He'd bathe my belly with kisses every morning and every evening. He'd kissed me affectionately as we danced together nearly every evening. The man I loved was back, and I was feeling happy, dropping my guard and relishing in the love of my husband.

At seventeen weeks, we had our first ultrasound done. The baby wasn't being very cooperative, but after a lot of coaxing she showed us. My beautiful little baby girl was healthy and growing inside me. I smiled and looked at James, something flashed in his eyes, but he smiled back at me. I asked about a three-dimensional ultrasound and the doctor gave us the name and number of the facility that could perform it for us. She said to schedule the appointment at 24-26 weeks and to be sure to drink plenty of fluids beforehand for the clearest pictures. I was beaming with excitement, and as soon as we got in the car, I told James I wanted to schedule it for our twenty-fourth week, wanting to see who she looked like more.

**--**

A hiccupped sob escaped me, and I paused, looking up to see Rose, Angela and Alice grasping each other's hands. They knew what was coming, and I wished I was out there with them looking in. I looked at Edward as he approached me, probably expecting my signal. I knew I needed to get through this next part before I could step down. I needed to do it for her. Everyone needed to know what he had done to us.

Feeling as though a knot had formed in my throat I swallowed, realizing how dry my mouth was. I looked to the judge, then back at Edward. "May I have some water?"

Edward looked at Judge Clearwater and asked, "Your Honor?" The judge nodded and Edward returned to his table to grab a glass of water. He brought it to me and my hands shook violently when I brought them up to take it from him. He moved his hand to grip the very base of the glass, leaving me nearly the entire cylinder to wrap my fingers around. Once again, this wonderful man understood what I needed without me asking. My hands still trembled, causing the water to thrash against the walls of the glass like the ocean against the sea cliffs of La Push.

"Bella, can you continue?" Edward asked. I nodded and handed my glass back to him. "What happened after your ultrasound, Bella?"

**--**

I entered the house in front of James. Before I was two steps in, I was shoved forcefully to the floor. I tried to break my fall to protect my bump and felt my wrist snap in reaction to the force. I cried out in pain and rolled to my side. Before I could right myself, James' foot connected with my stomach. He spewed hatred with every word he shouted. He held me responsible for giving him a daughter instead of a son. I instinctively folded forward and wrapped my arms around my midsection to try to keep him from harming her. He grabbed me by the hair, pulling me up and propelled me into the kitchen. He shoved me hard against the counter—my abdomen making contact with the granite.

James' beating continued, but it no longer focused on just my abdomen. I was punched in the face, I felt hair being ripped from my scalp and my clothes were torn. I passed out when a punch landed hard across the lower part of my jaw.

When I woke, I was in a hospital room with only a doctor and a few nurses. They were discussing my condition while looking at a chart that was being spat out from under a monitor. I heard one of them say that my baby's heart rate was slower than it should have been at this rate, and I started to panic. I heard my heart monitor's beeping increase, and three sets of eyes turned to look at me. They were all telling me I needed to calm down for both myself and my baby. My baby needed to feel safe and that would be difficult if I were under duress. I immediately started crying, remembering everything that James had done. I wondered who had found me and where James was.

I begged them to find my father and tell him where I was. One of the nurses hurriedly left the room while the other told me that my father was just down the hall taking a statement.

Shortly after, the nurse returned with my father right behind her. My eyes widened, with shock and fear seeing James walking in behind him. James looked as though he had been beaten. His face was swollen, bloodied and bruised. My heart rate shot up again and then I felt the worst pain imaginable. My abdomen and back felt as though knives were being plunged into me everywhere. I screamed out as loud as I could. The doctor was calling out for one of the nurses to inject something into my IV as my father was demanding to know what was going on. The last thing I saw was James' sneer as blackness took over.

When I woke again, James was there holding my hand. I tried to pull my hand away, but he gripped it tighter. He glanced behind me, and I knew we weren't alone. James explained to me that he had told my father about the men that we had walked in on who were trying to rob our house. He went on to tell me how they had beaten the both of us and how he was proud of me for being so strong. I couldn't believe the audacity this man had. He had perjured himself by filing a false police report.

Then he delivered the blow that sent me hurling into the dark pools of despair. Tears began to fall from his eyes as he told me _our_ baby girl was gone. _We_ had lost our little angel. '_Those bastards'_ had taken her from _us_. I wanted to scream and yell and tell everyone exactly what had happened. What kind of monster James Damon was.

He told me every detail of how they had removed her from my body. Going as far as to tell me that they had scrape my uterus, removing every last remnant of her. A part of me knew it was medically necessary but another part of me felt so empty and alone. _That_ was the day I'd met Alice. She was assigned to treat me for the depression that would inevitably come.

For the next few months, I was in a constant battle with myself. I grieved for the loss of my baby girl. I grieved again for losing the James I had loved. As much as I grieved, I felt ashamed for being relieved that my baby girl wasn't here.

That's when I had told Alice—under the guidelines of doctor-patient confidentiality—about my life. I needed her to tell me that my relief was warranted. That I shouldn't feel bad for being relieved that my baby girl would never have _his_ hand raised in anger at _her_. Relieved that she would never see her father beat her mother. Relieved that she wouldn't exist in this world of pain and heartache. Relieved that she was at home with God and my mother.

* * *

Alice had recruited Rose and Angela to drag me out for a girls' night. I'd been such a wreck during the trial—pills weren't helping, exercise was a temporary release only imagining myself running from the demons that would forever haunt me—that I had bitten all my fingernails down to the nub in all my anxiety. I could loosen up a bit now without the aid of chemical compositions.

The trial was over, and James had been sentenced to forty-three years with a possibility of parole in twenty-two. In twenty-two years, I could be very far away from that man. I could change my name. After the divorce was finalized last week, I returned to my maiden name. I was once again Isabella Marie Swan, known to her friends as Bella.

We took a seat near the exit door of the club. Things were easier in a public place, but I still had a problem dealing with men. I'd wept when I had finally been able to hug Jacob yesterday. It was a little awkward because he was taken aback. He eventually wrapped his arms around me and kissed the top of my head, telling me he missed me.

Up on the dimly lit stage, a tortured musician began to sing a song. As he lightly strummed his guitar, he sang of being broken, only to be freed by love. He captivated the attention of everyone in the room with his soulful sound. His words touched something deep down inside of me as his voice settled into a comfortable corner of my heart. I immediately wanted to know who this man was and if he had experienced his own anguish to be able to sing this song with such emotion.

When the song was over, he thanked everyone and my body swam with a nervous energy. He walked off stage toward the bar, plopped down on one of the stools and ordered himself a drink. I smiled as I recognized the mass of copper and caramel colored hair. When he turned back to face the room, my eyes locked with his. They sparkled when he smiled back at me, tilting his glass and nodding to me. I smiled back wishing I had the courage to get up and walk to him.

As if he had read my mind, he pushed off his stool and began walking toward me. He hesitated, his lips going into a tight line as he cocked his head, questioning me with his furrowed brow. I took a deep breath and nodded slightly, locking my gaze with his gorgeous green eyes as he began walking toward my table.


End file.
